Flight Of The Bumblebee
by jenajasper
Summary: Dean hoped that killing Cain would destroy the the Mark. But, what would be the consequences of what he had done.(Executioner's Song)
1. Chapter 1

When Dean touched Castiel on the shoulder, then patted his back, as he left the kitchen, he felt it, all of it. Cas had experienced human emotion. He was familiar with pain and sorrow and anguish. And he knew his friend was suffering. He followed Dean out of the room.

"Dean, may I ask you a question?"

When he got no answer, he asked again, believing that he needed permission. Although it was symbolic, he would not enter Dean's soul without acceptance.

Dean was all too familiar with Cas and his persistence. The question would be asked regardless of his wishes because, eventually, he would give in.

He took one more step before he stopped. He let his head drop forward keeping his arms at his sides.

He dreaded the subject of Cas' questions and felt he had very few answers to give. He turned, lifting his head, to face his friend. This would be his only indication of permission.

"When you killed Cain….."

"No, we're not talking about that. " Dean blurted out his words, cutting the question off. He threw his hands up, palms out, as if to push everything away.

"Please, Dean, just one question."

He slowly lowered his arms as his posture stiffened. It was the same stance one would take to control balance, to anchor oneself. But, Dean wasn't bracing himself against anything physical.

"When you killed Cain, how did it feel?"

Dean almost laughed. Feelings? He wanted to talk about his feelings?

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he had lowered his head just enough to be looking up into the angels eyes.

He spoke calmly and slowly. "I've killed before, Cas."

"But, this was a Knight of Hell. He was…."

Again, Dean interrupted him. He was breathing in quick short bursts. He lifted his head without shifting his gaze and said, " I've killed a Knight of Hell before, too."

"Ah, yes, Abaddon. And it was quite..." He paused as if carefully choosing the next word. "spectacular, as I understand."

"Spectacular" Castiel's monotone delivery sounded to Dean like he was listening to instructions on how to tie his shoes. The contrast made Dean more agitated and he spoke more harshly than he intended.

"What are you getting at, Cas? What do you want from me?"

Cas continued without changing his inflection.

"Just to know how you are feeling. I would imagine that dealing such a blow to the originator of the Mark, would affect you. Perhaps, even change its effect on you."

He was probably the most powerful force on the planet, maybe even beyond that, if he let it happen. And he was trying to reign it in like a dog on a leash. Dean hung his head. He could no longer look at the trusting face of his true friend. He could no longer answer his questions.


	2. Chapter 2

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTHENxxxxxxxxx

Cain tossed Dean around like a toy and he was, in fact, toying with him. He knew he wasn't getting all that Dean Winchester was capable of.

He was holding back. He didn't want to give in to the power. He knew he could only defeat Cain with this weapon but, he wanted to use it. He didn't want to be used by it.

"My story began when I killed my brother and that's where your story will inevitably end."

Cain had put a fear in him and Dean began to fight in earnest. But, he never embraced the Mark , he never understood its true purpose. As Cain bore the Mark, it became a partnership. Dean would not, could not give away the control, again. And thus, he lost the Blade and found himself overpowered.

Maybe this was the way it was to end for him. It was the Mark of Cain, not Dean, after all. Perhaps, it wasn't in his power to control it or destroy it. He couldn't allow himself to become a monster and this might be the only way to save him.

Cain held the blade to Dean's throat. "You're welcome, my son." He said.

It was at this moment that Dean died.

They say that when you die, you see the events of your life. Maybe it's like a video or one of those old home movies, grainy and choppy. You see what was good, what was right, what made you happy. Not the bad or the ugly, not the mistakes. Maybe the regrets, 'what if'…

Dean had a very long reel of 'what if'. And it happens in a flash. But, eventually, he came to the 'what if' of what was right in front of him. His future ? Did he have to become like Cain ?

Destiny. There was that word again. Pompous, mocking, sanctimonious.

It stirred something. It ignited something. It pissed him off.

Dean, reaching into Cain's jacket, pulled his knife from its sheath and in one stroke, chopped off that Blade wielding hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean stood over Cain, who was bleeding and beaten. He held the Blade. He begged the question, "Tell me that you'll stop. Tell me that you can stop."

He would not get an answer that could help him. He wouldn't stop, Cain told him. And he would force Dean to commit the act he so desperately wanted to avoid. For who would stop him, if not Dean? Cain hung his head and awaited his fate.

Dean walked to stand behind the fallen Knight of Hell.

Holding the Blade in a reverse grip, Dean raised it over his head. He no longer feared Cain. He was weakened and bleeding and battered.

With all of himself, the Mark fueling the Blade, the hatred and the misery fueling it all, Dean swung that blade.

In mid strike, a thought occurred to him, a feeling maybe. Terror, foreboding, mercy, hope ? In combination or succession, he couldn't distinguish one from the other.

"Screw destiny", he said. Dean flipped the Blade to the horizontal and without pause or hesitation, struck Cain in the back.

There was no sound, other than the vocalization of Dean's exertion, a release of the energy. There was no bright light. There was not even satisfaction. It was just done.

So, with the bloodied Blade and Cain's own knife, Dean, again, gathered the last of his strength and walked down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx…..NOW.

He thought it would be the pain but, it was the smell.

He was lying on his right side, his arm pinned beneath him. The floor was sticky and grainy and it smelled like death. It was covered in blood and whatever else spilled out of a body after being gutted and mutilated. All this mixing with the sawdust and whatever the hell else was stored in this hideous place.

He opened his eyes and attempted to lift his head. He felt a sticky pull on his skin. He found that he, himself, was also covered with the human slime that had escaped him. He jerked his head up to separate himself.

The movement relieved some of the pressure on his arm and that allowed the nerves to breathe, and that was when he felt the full impact of the pain. He screamed, no, he roared.

He rolled on to his back hoping that the force of his weight would, again, quiet those nerves. He let his head fall to the side and saw, just a few feet away, that discarded lump of flesh and bone that had once been his hand.

That hand had once held the First Blade. And it brought his thoughts back to his arm, which still wore the Mark.

The blood was slowly seeping, the draining all but done. He was even a little surprised that there was anything left. His hand was gone and his arm was just short of amputated.

But, he wasn't dead. His opponent had not crossed that line. He had controlled himself and the Mark enough to change the story. Dean Winchester had chosen not to kill him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean was in his room. He had never locked this door but, he seriously thought about it now. He just wanted to be alone, to be left alone.

He laughed out loud. Lock the door to keep out someone, something, that can appear and disappear, a being that time travels and probably reads minds.

He was so righteous, that was the word, a righteous man. Take the blame, all of it. Take the Mark, save the world, redeem himself. He had practically killed himself. He had indeed condemned himself. And if Cain was right, he had put Sam in danger with his very attempt to save him.

They needed the First Blade to kill Abaddon. He needed the Mark to use the Blade. And when it was over, he would go back and kill Cain. It was all so simple.

Instead, he had fallen under the power of the Mark and had become a monster. He was the very thing that he abhorred. And it was Sam and the angel who had saved him.

He always hated being alone, or so he thought. It wasn't being alone that he hated, it was being without his brother. He knew that now. But, how could he now subject Sam, or even Cas, to the mess he had made of it all

Castiel had asked a simple question. How did it feel to kill Cain? Dean couldn't answer him. because he didn't know.


End file.
